


Rhythm

by ravenclawsquill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Begging, Domestic Fluff, Frottage, Harry's rubbish dancing, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawsquill/pseuds/ravenclawsquill
Summary: Draco always knew Harry could dance.





	Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in less than 24 hours as part of the [2017 Wand In A Knot challenge](http://wand-in-a-knot.livejournal.com/). 
> 
> It's completely unbeta'd due to the strict time limit, so if you spot any mistakes, do send me a message to let me know!

Harry loved Draco’s apartment. He’d had his reservations when he first moved in – the furnishings were more minimalist than cosy, and the intimidating tidiness reminded him a little too much of Number 4 Privet Drive – but it hadn't taken long for it to feel like home. Besides, the view more than made up for it.

It was a view Harry was sure he’d never grow tired of, and it looked as good tonight as ever; he couldn't resist looking out across the city as he cooked, only half-listening to the smooth ballad that was playing on the wireless.

Dinner was almost ready: the table was set and three silver pans bubbled away on the stove, their contents seasoned to perfection. Harry turned his back on them to take a sip of wine, enjoying the moment of peace. 

From down the hallway, he could hear the faint hiss of the shower as Draco washed away yet another twelve hour St Mungo’s shift. Harry was forever telling him he was working too hard, but of course Draco never listened. He’d stepped out of the Floo ten minutes ago, his green robes splattered with all manner of grisly-looking stains, and barely paused to spare Harry a kiss on the cheek before dashing off to clean himself up.

When Harry heard the water stop, he took the pans off the heat and cast a simple stasis spell to keep the food at a perfect temperature. It wouldn’t be long, now.

Sure enough, Draco came padding down the hallway barely a minute later, wearing just a blue pair of pyjama bottoms. The water had darkened the colour of his hair to a rich gold, and he’d pushed it roughly back out of his eyes. It was a far cry from his smart daytime look; how could Harry not stop and stare?

After all, Draco looked even better than the city lights outside. He’d grown into his slim frame nicely over the past couple of years: these days he looked lean rather than skinny. Between the neat jut of his hipbones and the faint blush of his nipples, the sight of Draco without a shirt on never failed to make Harry’s mouth go dry.

“Alright?” Draco asked, bringing Harry back from his trance by leaning in for a proper kiss. It was Harry’s favourite type of kiss: slow and purposeful, with Draco’s tongue leisurely mapping out Harry’s mouth, pausing every so often to bite gently at his lower lip. 

Harry tried and failed to mask his sighs of pleasure; he felt as if his legs had turned to liquid. Draco had clearly shaved in the shower; his skin was smooth as silk, and as usual, he smelled delicious. Harry had teased him about his ridiculous array of toiletries when they first got together, but since moving in, he found himself using Draco’s more than his own.

When Draco eventually pulled back from the kiss, he flashed Harry a sleek smile and pushed his hair back again, smoothing it back as best as he could.

“How was your day?” Harry asked when he trusted himself to speak again. 

Draco took a step back and grimaced. “Two words: spattergroit epidemic. You honestly don't want to know any more than that.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Harry grinned. He’d learned early on not to ask for the gory details of Draco’s day; there was always something that would put him off his dinner. “Hungry?”

Draco nodded. “Of course. I’d rather unwind a bit first, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” 

Before Harry could ask what he had in mind, Draco grabbed Harry’s wand from the counter and switched the station on the wireless. The calm melody was immediately replaced by something entirely different. Harry didn't recognise it; it had a slow, throbbing beat and vocals so breathy they were almost indistinguishable. It sounded filthy – indecent, even.

“What are you—?” Harry’s words caught in his throat as Draco pulled him in close for another kiss and began to move his hips insistently in time with the beat.

Harry pulled away from the kiss, frowning. “What are you doing, you prat? You know I don't dance.”

“Mmm, I’ve never really understood why, though.”

Harry tried unsuccessfully to nudge Draco away. “I just hate it. I’ve got no sense of rhythm.”

Draco mouthed at Harry’s neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot just below his ear. “That is a complete lie, Harry Potter,” he murmured. “There’s nothing wrong with your sense of rhythm. My arse can attest to that.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah?”

Draco nodded seriously. “Oh yes. Now, relax your hips. You’re as stiff as a bloody Bowtruckle.”

With some effort, Harry forced himself to relax against Draco’s warm body. He tried to focus on the feeling of Draco’s hands resting on his waist rather than how stupid he felt, and from Draco’s approving smile, he was apparently doing an alright job of it.

“Much better,” Draco whispered, bringing their hips flush together.

As he did so, Harry realised that Draco was hard. Arousal twisted sharply in the pit of his stomach; he could feel the firm bulge of Draco’s prick through the thin cotton of his pyjamas. The knowledge that Draco never wore underwear beneath them only served to increase Harry’s desire.

They stared at each other for a long moment, all thoughts of dancing forgotten. 

When the tension got too much, Harry reached down between them and squeezed Draco firmly. Draco’s breath caught in his throat, a soft _oh_ of surprise at the increased sensation. He pushed his hips forward against Harry’s palm. The movement was almost imperceptible, but it told Harry everything he needed to know.

It was as if something snapped. In an instant they were kissing again, only this time it was frantic, all teeth and tongues. They clutched at one another as if they were drowning, frotting shamelessly against each other like a couple of teenagers. Harry grabbed at Draco’s arse, fisting at the soft fabric of his pyjamas and pulling him as close as physically possible whilst clothed.

They stumbled backwards blindly, never losing any intensity. Harry ended up with his back against the fridge and used it to steady himself as they settled into a steady pattern, grinding their hips in slow circles. The friction was wonderful, sending rich waves of pleasure roaring through Harry’s body, and Draco seemed to be enjoying it even more. 

It wasn’t long before Draco’s rhythm faltered. His movements dissolved into a series of short staccato thrusts before ceasing completely as he came, gasping and panting against Harry’s neck as he rode out his orgasm.

All the while, Harry kept moving, desperately pursuing his own release. It was no use, though. His jeans were too thick, the denim was too bulky…he’d never finish like this. 

“Not enough…need more,” he gasped.

Draco pulled back from where he’d had his face buried in Harry’s neck, a slow smirk forming on his lips. The pink flush across his cheeks didn’t make the expression any less effective. “Say please.”

Normally Harry would have been mortified by the prospect of begging, but not tonight. “ _Please_ , Draco,” he whined. “ _Please_ make me come. I need it…need you…”

Draco swallowed hard, his blush deepening. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” 

Without another word, he dropped smoothly to his knees. He made quick work of the fastenings of Harry’s jeans; a moment later, they were pushed down around Harry’s ankles along with his boxers.

The anticipation was too much for Harry. He could barely keep still. Thankfully, Draco wasn’t in the mood for teasing tonight. He ran his pink tongue smoothly over the head of Harry’s cock just once before taking the full length into his mouth.

Harry groaned with relief. That was more like it, that was _exactly_ what he needed. Harry wanted to tell Draco how good it felt, but words failed him. All he could manage were desperate, incoherent moans.

“ _Ohhhh…_ ”

He tangled his fingers in Draco’s damp hair, tugging roughly and trying to keep still as Draco sucked him down. He was so wound up that his orgasm caught him off guard, far quicker than he’d expected.

“ _Fuck!_ Coming…” was all the warning he managed to give. He thrust involuntarily into Draco’s mouth as pleasure consumed him, too far gone to even apologise. Draco’s eyes widened, but he managed not to choke. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, letting Harry fuck his mouth as he swallowed every drop of Harry’s release. 

When the aftershocks were over, Draco shifted back. He wiped neatly at the corners of his mouth before climbing elegantly to his feet, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“See, I knew you could dance,” he said. 

Harry shook his head, unconvinced and a little bit dazed. “I’m not sure we could get away with that in a club, though.”

Draco smirked. “You’d be amazed what we could get away with in a dark corner. Now, let’s eat. Some of us have worked a long day, you know.”


End file.
